


Take My Hand

by AngryPirateHusbands



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, Dreams and Nightmares, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Gay, F/M, Feelings, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:10:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8308003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngryPirateHusbands/pseuds/AngryPirateHusbands
Summary: After Charlestown Flint begins to fall into disrepair. He's sees Miranda's face wherever he goes in vivid dreams, no matter if awake or asleep. Soon, he begins to see Thomas as well. And they both implore him to do the same thing: Hold tight to John Silver.Takes place in S3.





	

Ever since the destruction of Charlestown Flint found himself haunted by new demons. But these were not the usual faces of those he had fought and killed. Instead, he found himself seeing Miranda's face wherever he went. She came to him in his dreams and even during his waking hours in brief visions. There was no doubt that these were simple tricks of his mind. But what wasn't certain was whether these hallucinations were brought about by grief, or if he was finally going mad.

Once their partnership with the Maroon Camp had become settled, however, Miranda disappeared. Just as she had said in one of his visions, he had been forced to let her go. Yet it was short lived at best. Due to circumstance he had been forced to leave Silver behind while the rest of his crew returned to set sail. The quartermaster was the only one he trusted to strengthen the ties between them and their new allies. While the Maroon Queen had agreed to his terms and let them go free, their footing remained on uneven ground. But more importantly he needed to heal.

Despite the strength of his reasoning Flint was not prepared for how keenly he would notice Silver's absence. He quickly realized that this was the first time they had been separated for more than just a few days. He had grown so reliant on the man's presence that he often found himself glancing to his right side when in need of a reassuring gaze or honest counsel. Billy carried out the duties of quartermaster well, of that there was no mistake, but he was not John Silver. He was not that same man that had remained by his side after the traumatic loss of Miranda. Nor was he the same man that could so easily keep him anchored to reason despite the harsh realities of their world.

And so the calm nightmares of Miranda returned. Perhaps it was to fill the recent void Silver's absence had wrought. She was just as beautiful as she had always been and still she was dressed in that faded gown she had worn the day of her death. And so too was that bullet hole in her right temple. Flint moved through the empty bowels of the ship, noting the black figure that stood far behind her. _Death._ Miranda never seemed to take notice of the humanoid figure shrouded in black, and this time was no exception. Instead she looked upon Flint's wretched expression with calm understanding.

"He is not here... Why?" Though her lips moved, the whispered words reached his ears only after a noticeable delay. It was as if she were speaking to him from under water, or perhaps through a thick fog.

"I need to protect him."

"From what..?" Flint's answer came in the form of a silent look, a stare over her shoulder at the dark wisp that moved about behind her with an eerie grace. Miranda just shook her head. Her movements were slow, her expression somber and her skin that unnaturally pale hue. The wound in her temple, however, shown bright red as a drop of blood slid down to meet her slender eyebrow. "You cannot protect someone from the inevitable."

When Flint returned to reality he was standing up on the quarterdeck overlooking the water. As always, he never came to in the same surroundings as his visions. As his eyes looked over the water he felt the exhaustion weigh heavily on his mind. "--tain. Captain!" Flint blinked before turning to see Billy. The man was casting him an uneasy look.

Flint gave an ever so slight nod of his head. "My apologies... Have Mr. Degroot adjust our course so that we can regain our favorable wind.." Billy nodded slowly before retreating and Flint rubbed at his eyes.These dreams or nightmares, whatever they were, needed to cease. However he had never been so lucky so as to hold any power over his demons. The longer they found themselves at sea the more frequently Miranda came to him. Occasionally he would catch her in a passing glance. Other times they would speak, or rather she would and he would simply listen. The topic was always the same: That he needed to let her go.

The next time he fell into one of his hallucinations they were making their way back to the Island's camp. He led his crew behind the Queen's scouts as they navigated the beach beneath the moon's glow. However, all too suddenly the moss and twigs beneath his boots gave way to sand. The dark outline of trees were replaced by thick fog over the water's edge. As always in these encounters, Miranda stood before him. However this time she was not the only one. For the first time since they had fled London, Thomas stood before him. 

Flint's breath immediately caught in his throat. He took a half step forward before pausing in his place. His eyes felt wet as he took in the sight of him, his tortured gaze shifting to Miranda in confusion. She returned his stare with a calm, kind expression. Flint swallowed as his eyes moved back over Thomas. Over the pale complexion that matched their partner's in death. His eyes held the same glimmer of light that they always had. Yet as he took him in he realized how much he had forgotten. The way his short dirty blond hair so elegantly framed his face, the slight dimples that would appear with each smile. Though he loathed to admit it, time had begun to take its toll. He had begun to forget the details of his face, his quirks, the way he moved. And as he stood before him now he found himself overcome with emotion.

Flint closed the space between them and reached out. However he froze in place, his fingers just barely touching that cheek. He knew that if he did the illusion would be shattered. That his fingers would pass through him just as it did the mists in this place. As always Thomas saw right through him. He stepped forward a fraction and those rough fingers moved right past his cheek. They met no resistance; all he could feel was the slight chill of empty air, and the way his heart sank deep into his chest.

"Let go," Thomas murmured softly, those gray eyes boring into his own.

Flint gave a slight shake of his head, his expression betraying the heartbreak and torture that coursed through every fiber of him. "How...?"

Silently Miranda nodded past him. When Flint turned they were suddenly at the water's edge and a boat floated just along the sandbank. The small vessel had no oars, yet the moment Flint climbed aboard it began to move on its own. It pushed slowly through the water, cutting through the gentle waves as the fog also seemed to separate around them. Miranda and Thomas sat before him, though their appearances had been altered if only just. The bullet wound in Miranda's temple was gone, and a soft glow had returned to their skin. A resemblance of their living complexions. If it weren't for the thick fog he would have thought they had all been transported back in time. Back to when they were flesh and bone and beating hearts. Alas, he knew it was just another trick brought about by his loss.

"You must let go," Miranda repeated after what felt like an eternity of silence.

Flint only shook his head. He swallowed the heavy thump in his throat.

"Can you still not see?" Thomas asked after a moment, his voice just above a whisper. Just as before his words were muted. "You are not alone. You have never _been_ alone."

"Can you not see the man before you?" Miranda continued. "The man who knows your soul just as well as we ever did... He is there, waiting for you. You must allow him to take our place. Let us go.." Her voice shook softly and her eyes were wet with her own tears. "Look," she then implored him as her gaze traveled over his shoulder once more.

When Flint glanced behind him his heart seemed to slow to a halt. There was Silver, standing alone along the far bank with no help from his crutch. He held a small lantern up against the fog, the soft light effectively cutting through the emptiness that surrounded them. Dark hair framed his face in thick curls, his expression soft and welcoming. In his other hand he gripped an oar.

"Follow him." Despite the gentleness of their words and the way they seemed to fade into the distance, Flint's gaze never left Silver's blue eyes. "Follow him... and you will find the peace you seek." A soft smile met John's face and he turned to begin walking inland. _To a place where you will no longer be troubled by the sea..._ As the light of the lantern began to fade into the mists Flint turned, his eyes settling on nothing but an empty boat.

"Captain..?" The familiar voice immediately tore Flint from his thoughts. The man blinked as all of his senses seemed to shift back to reality all at once. The small boat beneath him rocked softly as moonlight bounced off the water. In the near distance he heard the song of crickets. " _James..?_ " That voice tried once more. When Flint finally looked up the saw Silver. The man was kneeling against the docks as best he could with one leg. He held up a lantern in one hand and his illuminated expression was one of genuine concern. It was clear in those brilliant blue eyes that he could see something was troubling him. The lantern was set down with a soft thud before Silver extended an arm towards him. Without looking back Flint grasped that hand, and once more Silver managed to heft him back onto solid ground.


End file.
